


What Great Stories

by sunflowerbright



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, close to sexy-times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerbright/pseuds/sunflowerbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I missed you,” she says and his breath hitch at the sadness in hers, and also because he doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to hear, doesn’t want to acknowledge that they were torn from each other, because if it’s happened once it can happen again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Great Stories

Are you alright?” he asks, not sure if he really wants to hear the answer. What if she isn’t? He’s learnt long ago that he is rubbish at making sure she is alright. Making sure she isn’t hurt.  
  
But Rose smiles as she turns around, legs tugged up to her chest, arms around her knees, blonde hair falling softly over her pajama-clad shoulders.  
  
“Yes. I’m brilliant,” she says and then her arms reach forward, pulling her to him and pressing her lips against his.  
  
He isn’t exactly sure where she found the courage to do that, and he wonders if maybe they could bottle it and he could have some, because really, he could use it. But then it’s all lips and teeth and tongue, and she’s all he can think about as her fingers rake through her hair and they fall backwards unto her bed.  
  
“Are you _sure_ you’re alright?” He asks again, when she pulls away to gulp in air. She laughs at him. It’s a wonderful sound.  
  
“You’re so silly,” she giggles and he supposes he is, having a warm and soft Rose under him and worrying instead of just going along with it. But he can’t help but think that maybe it’s the stress of these past days that is making her react. Of course then she kisses him again and gasps and sighs ( _or maybe he was the one gasping, he really isn’t sure)_ and whispers, “I love you.”  
  
He wondered, once in a previous incarnation, if what drew him to humans was that they were so different from him. Never-mind the two hearts or the fact that the general anatomy was the same on the outside, he’s cold and long-lived and calculating and the humans he travels with are anything but.  
  
Warm. Soft. Caring. He wonders when he started describing Rose instead of his favorite parts of humanity, and then thinks that maybe it’s the same thing.  
  
Warm and soft and caring and gone before he can blink.  
  
If he crushes her even closer to him, she doesn’t seem to mind, tongues battling for dominance, her hands raking over his shoulder.  
  
He can hardly feel it through the layers, wonders if she’d have drawn blood had there been only bare skin against her nails, and then immediately decides to test that theory.  
  
She laughs again as she helps him struggle out of his clothes, teasingly asking him if he’d picked today especially to wear _all_ of his clothes at once. He pouts at her teasing and gently tickles her sides in retribution, watching as she shrieks and tries to scamper away from his long fingers.  
  
“Not fair,” she gets out between laughter, one hand rubbing against her eyes where tears are forming, blonde hair obscuring most of her face from view. He stops and leans forward to push it away instead, cupping her cheek in his hand.  
  
She stops laughing when he kisses her again, and he wonders why he even stopped in the first place as their lips meet – some silly reason like needing to breathe. Really, they have better things to do.  
  
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he faintly objects, suddenly aware that he is only in his underwear while she is still wearing her long-sleeved pajamas.  
  
“Yes, well, we were a bit busy getting you out of yours,” she breathes into his ear, warm breath sending shivers down his spine. “I think it took us like an hour…”  
  
He growls in annoyance against her neck, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “Off,” he demands and she complies, then tugging him down to kiss her again.  
  
“I missed you,” she says and his breath hitch at the sadness in hers, and also because he doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to hear, doesn’t want to acknowledge that they were torn from each other, because if it’s happened once it can happen again.  
  
It could oh, so easily happen again.  
  
So he doesn’t say anything, though he probably should, should probably tell her exactly what this means to him, how much _she_ means to him, but that would be acknowledging it again and he can’t…  
  
So he holds her even tighter instead, face buried in her neck, pressing her against the mattress, because if he can keep her here, enclosed between a bed and his body, she won’t ever leave again.  
  
She won’t. She can’t.  
  
“Doctor?” Rose whispers in his ear, nails raking down his back. He shivers, this time from the chill in the air and when did it get so cold, when Rose is alive and warm right there with him.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” she says and she’s not laughing now. She’s crying.

  
  
\----

 

  
  
His eyes open wide, his teeth already clenched as he wakes up, the hum of his ship around him a dull sense instead of a comforting melody.  
  
He’s in the TARDIS, in his bed. Alone.


End file.
